Well, when I saw the chef with the book in his hand, I said to him
jokingly, "I see you found it again." He was a foreign-looking fellow,
with a big beard, which is unusual for a chef, because I suppose it's
likely to get in the soup. He looked at me as though I'd run a carving
knife into him, almost scared me the way he looked. "Yes, yes," he
said, and shoved the book out of sight under his arm. He seemed half
angry and half frightened, so I thought maybe he had no right to be
riding in the passenger elevator and was scared someone would report
him to the manager. Just as we were getting to the fourteenth floor I
said to him in a whisper, "It's all right, old chap, I'm not going to
report you." I give you my word he looked more scared than before. He
went quite white. I got off at the fourteenth, and he followed me out.
I thought he was going to speak to me, but Mr. Chapman was there in the
lobby, and he didn't have a chance. But I noticed that he watched me
into the grill room as though I was his last chance of salvation."

"I guess the poor devil was scared you'd report him to the police for
stealing the book," said Roger. "Never mind, let him have it."

"Did he steal it?"

"I haven't a notion. But somebody did, because it disappeared from
here."

"Well, now, wait a minute. Here's the queer part of it. I didn't
think anything more about it, except that it was a funny coincidence my
seeing him after having noticed that ad in the paper. I had a long
talk with Mr. Chapman, and we discussed some plans for a prune and
Saratoga chip campaign, and I showed him some suggested copy I had
prepared. Then he told me about his daughter, and I let on that I knew
you. I left the Octagon about eight o'clock, and I thought I'd run
over here on the subway just to show you the LOST notice and give you
this tobacco. And when I got off the subway at Atlantic Avenue, who
should I see but friend chef again. He got off the same train I did.
He had on civilian clothes then, of course, and when he was out of his
white uniform and pancake hat I recognized him right off. Who do you
suppose it was?"

"Can't imagine," said Roger, highly interested by this time.

"Why, the professor-looking guy who came in to ask for the book the
first night I was here."

"Humph! Well, he must be keen about Carlyle, because he was horribly
disappointed that evening when he asked for the book and I couldn't
find it. I remember how he ins